


Be All Our Secrets Remembered

by lividsilk



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And a good one at that, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mystery, POV Multiple, Slow Burn, Unreliable Narrator, in which souls are just a bargaining chip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 00:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13493298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lividsilk/pseuds/lividsilk
Summary: For a few brief, beautiful years, Taako felt like he was on top of the world.Sizzle It Up!had gained traction and popularity to the point where money was no longer a worry. Taako had the time and the means to delve further into studying magic, there was always a roof overhead, and he was so sure that he and his sister never had to worry about going hungry again.And then his world came crashing down when Lup left.Lup left, and when she came back newly-dead and unrecognizable, Taako had no choice but to cope and move forward.Now, three dubious jobs and one pain in the ass relic retrieval mission later, Taako finds himself facing the only person who can help Lup and, by extension, him.The Grim Reaper is sharply dressed, task-oriented, and only wants to kill Taako a little bit. But he's also oddly fond of wits and wagers, and faced with the option of saving his own soul or dooming his sister to the Eternal Stockade, Taako does the only thing he can.Taako strikes a deal.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Words cannot express how grateful I am for [Kipp](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinyKipp/pseuds/ShinyKipp), [Mango](http://archiveofourown.org/users/malevolentmango/pseuds/malevolentmango), and [Phoebe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ltdominic/pseuds/ltdominic) for their endless encouragement.
> 
> Thank you to the above for their invaluable feedback during the beta process, and also to everyone else (Tess and Iz) who contributed.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taako again eyes his bag of components, and fights the urge to lunge for it. It would be way too suspicious at this point; they've been pardoned for their deaths, or for not checking into the Astral Plane, or whatever bullshit had been written in his little book of wonders, and Taako was not one to press good fortune.
> 
> And hell, maybe Taako is overthinking this. Maybe Kravitz hadn't noticed, after all. Lup had vanished not even a minute after she realized she was in danger, and there had been no mention of her during their negotiations. She was long gone, Taako had actively helped Kravitz with Legion, and maybe he had nothing to worry about.
> 
> Kravitz turns to stare him dead in the eye—
> 
> "The lich. Where is it?"
> 
> —And maybe, Taako thinks, he should learn to temper his fucking expectations better.

The laboratory is in shambles, shards of crystal scattered amongst cracked white tile and scorched machinery. Lucas Miller lies crumpled up against a wall, battered and bruised and nearly dead with Merle kneeling by his side. The dwarf's hands glow with holy light, lips wordlessly forming healing incantations.

An alarm is blaring somewhere in the distance. Taako’s ear is still ringing from the fall he took when his legs gave out. His spell slots are nearly exhausted. He just fought an army of souls with a grudge, souls that apparently escaped from some kind of ghost jail. His bag of components is halfway across the room, resting by the feet of the warden of said ghost jail. A warden who just so happens to be _the actual literal Grim Reaper_.

And shockingly, it's only the second worst Candlenights of Taako's life.

Actual literal Grim Reaper—  _Kravitz,_  his mind supplies helpfully— is talking to Magnus now, attempting to come to some sort of agreement regarding Noelle's soul. He thinks should be helping out; not out of any lingering guilt about what happened to her, but because fuck if he's going to let her be punished for something she couldn't control. Instead he takes the lull for what it is: an opportunity to take stock of what the fuck just happened.

Because Lup had been here.

Lup, whom he hasn't seen since Goldcliff, when she appeared in Captain Bane's office alongside that _other_ lich.

Lup, who made a man drink poisoned whiskey meant for him.

Lup, incorporeal and blurry around the edges, with features getting less and less defined every time he saw her.

Lup, who stopped time and stood behind Lucas and spoke with an authority and a sort of omniscience that made goosebumps raise on Taako's arms.

Lup, who had crouched next to him when Kravitz appeared, had whispered _oh_ **_shit_ ** with a weariness in her voice that he's never heard before, followed by a strained, _I have to go now_.

Lup had been here, and then she had left him, yet again.

But that was a problem for later. Taako, at the moment, has another tiny little issue to deal with.

A tiny little issue that is finished talking to Magnus, by the looks of it.

"Well then." The book and the quill vanish from Kravitz's hands, fading into what look like wisps. "Let's move on to our next order of business, shall we?"

Taako again eyes his bag of components, and fights the urge to lunge for it. It would be way too suspicious at this point; they've been pardoned for their deaths, or not checking into the Astral Plane, or whatever bullshit had been written in his little book of wonders. Taako was never one to press good fortune.

And hell, maybe Taako is overthinking this. Maybe Kravitz hadn't noticed. Lup vanished not even a minute after she realized she was in danger, and there had been no mention of her during their negotiations. She was long gone, Taako helped Kravitz with Legion, and maybe he had nothing to worry about.

Kravitz turns to stare him dead in the eye—

"The lich. Where is it?"

—And maybe, Taako thinks, he should learn to temper his fucking expectations better.

"Turned tail and ran the second she saw you, Bonebags," Taako lilts, cocking his hip and mustering all the bravado of a wizard with barely any spell slots left. "Can't say I blame her, though. You're not really her type."

Death's red eyes narrow, his heels clicking on cracked tile as he crosses the room.

"So you're in league with the lich."

It's not a question, Taako realizes, feeling something heavy in his stomach that sinks further down with each elegant footfall. Adrenaline hums in his ears, making his fingers feel tingly and light.

Taako knows three things.

"Okay, so: One, no, I'm not in league with ‘the lich’, whatever that means."

He needs to take control of this situation.

"Two, 'the lich' prefers she/her, homie."

He needs to get rid of this guy.

"And three, that happens to be my sister you're talking about."

He needs to protect Lup.

"Your sister?" Kravitz comes to a stop in front of Taako, feathered mantle brushing out against his ankles.

"Yeah, my sister," Taako snaps back, still riding that shaky, pretentious high. "So if you could just cut her a bit of slack, I'd appreciate it. _Especially_ after how we just saved your ass."

"You," Kravitz says, eyes sweeping over Taako, "are not a lich."

"Yeah, no shit, my man," Taako huffs, and tells himself he's only watching Kravitz's face to make sure he doesn't pull any sudden movements. "I'm not a lich, I'm not a phylactery or anything like that—"

"Of course not, I'd be able to sense if you were."

"Cool," Taako snaps. "Can I finish?"

Behind him, he hears Magnus snort. Kravitz's eyes widen, and much to Taako's relief, all he does in response is take a halting step back.

"Uh— sure," Kravitz says, fumbling around the words. "My apologies. Please—"

"Great." And Taako knows it's probably not the wisest thing in the world, annoying an avatar of Death, but it's three in the fucking morning and hearing Magnus's short bark of laughter has to be worth _something_ , at least. "I'm not a lich, I'm not a phylactery, and my sister never _intended_ to become a lich. So again, if you could just let this little matter go, I would be _very_ much obliged."

Kravitz crosses his arms, eyebrows raising impassively. "I've heard pretty much every excuse in the book, but 'didn't mean to become a lich' is a good one, I've gotta say."

"You think someone would remember a whole ceremony dedicated to becoming an undead being, yeah?" Taako taps the Umbrastaff against a shattered floor tile. "She was killed by a lich, and when she woke up, she was also a lich. Had no say in the matter."

"That is— that’s not at all how lichdom works," Kravitz deadpans.

"Oh, so what, mister big bad reaper man knows everything now?” Taako spins the Umbrastaff on its tip, watches Kravitz's gaze dart over to the weapon and back again. “Everything about lichdom and death and all that shit?"

"What are you even—  _Yes._  Yes, I do, because that is my _job_ ," Kravitz huffs. "I'm an Emissary of The Raven Queen, arbiter of life and death." He pauses at that tiny reveal, studying Taako's expression carefully.  

Like Taako is supposed to be...what? Shocked? Awed? He's a handsome fucker, to be sure, but he's still a handsome fucker trying to hunt his sister down.

Kravitz frowns. "But that doesn't matter to you, does it? You're not intimidated by me at all, are you?"

"Nope." Taako makes a pointed effort to pop the 'p' on the word, and Kravitz doesn't look frustrated by the gesture as much as he looks put out.  
  
"Listen, Taako," Kravitz starts, voice silky-smooth. "May I call you Taako?"  
  
Another loud tap. "You may _not._ "  
  
"Fine. How would you prefer I address you?"  
  
"'Your Majesty' will suffice."  
  
"You are _not at all—_!" Kravitz cuts himself off and draws in a deep breath, which tickles something at the back of Taako's mind. Do the undead even need to breathe?  
  
"Taako. Your Majesty. Whatever _bloody_ name you prefer." Kravitz brings his hands up in front of him, presses them together. "I understand your position, and I hope that you can try, just a bit, to understand mine."  
  
"Understand—" Taako cuts himself off with an incredulous laugh. "You are hunting my _sister._ You want to kill her, you fucking undead weirdo! How is that supposed to incentivize me to understand you in any—"  
  
" _Because death is not your sister's only choice!_ "  
  
The room falls quiet. A white patch of bone shows through on Kravitz's forehead, right where a throbbing vein might be. It slowly knits itself back together.  
  
"Death," He starts again, carefully enunciating each word, "is not your sister's only choice, Taako. It is a choice she will make, or a choice that I will make for her, if she is unwilling to cooperate with me."  
  
The very idea that this man-- Grim Reaper, Death, who the fuck _cares_ what he is— thinks he has any right to make decisions for Lup makes anger curl white-hot behind his breastbone, and eyes go wide with poorly concealed indignance. He purses his lips, fingers tightening around the handle of the Umbrastaff.  
  
And before he can say anything else, Merle speaks.

"Listen, Kravitz." Merle steps over to stand next to Taako. "May I call you Kravitz? Because I'm certainly not gonna call you Pan." 

Kravitz hides a chuckle behind a forced cough. It's disgustingly personable, way more than this asshole has any right to be.  
  
"Yes. Yes, you may."  
  
"Great. So, Kravitz, I think you'll agree with me that this isn't the time or the place for a discussion like this." He pats the side of Taako's hip, and Taako's lip curls as he twists away from the touch. "It's way past my bedtime, for one, and I know for a fact that Taako didn't sleep last night—"  
  
"You don't know _shit_ , old man—"  
  
"—So I think we're all just happy to leave here with our lives. Ain't that right, boys?"  
  
The silence stretches on for five, ten, fifteen seconds before Magnus finally grumbles.  
  
"Yeah, I guess."  
  
"Sure," Taako says airily, pretending to examine his nails through the null suit.  
  
"See? Your efforts are very much appreciated, and we are very, _very_ grateful."  
  
"Not quite sure I've ever seen His Majesty's version of gratefulness, but thank you," Kravitz says.  
  
"It's customary in my home kingdom of Don't Give A Fuck." Taako's eyes narrow. "So what, you think you can skulk around me until my sister shows back up again? Hate to break it to you, Bonebags, but even I don't know where she is half the time."  
  
"What Taako _means_ to say," Merle says, a rare steel edge to his voice that Taako has never thought to test, "is that he would be very grateful if you could keep him informed of any activity involving his sister. She's a very good conversationalist, but Taako has information that she doesn't have at this point, and they both tend to be less skittish when they're around each other."  
  
"Who the _fuck_ do you think you are, Merle?" Taako snarls.

"Conversationalist?" Kravitz interrupts, his brow furrowed. "You speak to the— you speak to her?"

"Oh, yeah, when she's around," Merle says. "Like Taako says, she's a real independent spirit, likes doing her own thing. But she walked me through making a mean salmon sous vide one day, let me tell you!"  
  
"That's..." Kravitz trails off, hesitates for a moment, and turns back to Taako. The elf meets the reaper's gaze cooly, tilting his head almost inquisitively.  
  
"Yeeees?"  
  
"I know we got off to a bad start," Kravitz says, pushing through Taako's derisive snort. "But your sister is on the wrong side of the laws of life and death, and I am quite literally the only one who can help."  
  
“So what would you like, handsome? A pat on the head?”   
  
Kravitz's eyes narrow slightly, and Taako freezes despite himself.

He can’t afford to let this get the better of him.

Kravitz wants his sister, and Taako needs to take the attention away from Lup at any and all cost.

And Taako knows better than anyone that that the best way to get someone to do what you want is to give them a pretty damn good incentive.

“Listen, Kravitz.” Taako hooks the Umbrastaff over his forearm, forcing his stare into something softer, more inquisitive. “What was that you were saying earlier, about deals? Why don’t we strike a deal.”

“And what deal could I possibly strike with you?” Kravitz sounds almost amused at the idea. “We’ve clearly established that you’re not a lich, nor are you your sister’s phylactery.”

“Sure ain’t,” Taako says with a casual shrug, even as his heart thunders inside his chest. “But I know where her phylactery is, and unless I’m wrong…” Taako brings his right hand up, making a finger-gun motion at Kravitz. “That’s some pretty vital _informacion_ that you need, yeah?”

In an instant, the world goes still, and Taako has the deep, heavy inkling of a situation about to go horribly, horribly wrong.

An inkling that proves to be right when Kravitz closes the distance between them in what feels like _nothing_ , his gaze steely and his jaw set. He sees Merle stumble a few feet backwards, both hands raised in front of his chest in a placating gesture.

“And what,” Kravitz says, low enough that only Taako can hear, “is keeping me from just taking your soul right now to get the information I need?”

“I’m only— Magnus, _no_ ,” Taako says, hand jerking up in response to the flash of movement in the corner of his eye. A breathless peal of nervous laughter bubbles out of him. “I’m fine, Magnus, and I’m only one half of that information, _Kravitz_ , do you _fucking mind_.” Taako takes a step back, attempting to put some distance between him and the reaper, and his hand trembles in relief when Kravitz does not follow.

“I’m only one half of that information,” Taako tries again, sharply enunciating each word to temper the unsteady heartbeat pounding in his throat. He takes another step back. “I’m the cipher, and she’s the key, all right? The information is useless unless we’re _together._ ”

There’s a long moment of silence, a moment in which Kravitz is studying Taako’s face intently; all traces of humor and good-naturedness have melted from the reaper’s posture, and Taako feels his own brow furrow even as he twists his lips into some semblance of a grin.

“Well? Is it a deal? You let me know when you find my sister, and you’ll find the phylactery, lickety-split. Nice, ain’t it?”

“If you’re lying to me,” Kravitz says slowly, “both of your souls will be forfeit.”

“Lie? To _Death?”_ Taako’s hand comes up to press against his chest. “Taako’s dumb, homie, but he ain’t _that_ dumb.”

"Then we have a deal," Kravitz says, taking a step back as his form flickers skeletal. His head turns towards Taako, giving the barest of nods. "I have matters to attend to, but I'll be in touch if I hear anything regarding the li-- ...your sister."  
  
"You'll know where to find me," Taako drawls, muscles coiled tight and tense. "My castle is the one shaped like a big middle finger."  
  
"Charming," Kravitz says, scythe materializing in graceful swirls around his hand. "Thanks for the assistance. And please, let's not meet like this again, if we can help it."  
  
"Gladly," Taako mutters under his breath.

A collective breath of relief seems to pass through the group as the rift closes behind Kravitz, flooding bright and euphoric through his system, making his knees weak. Taako hangs back as Magnus and Merle descend on Lucas with squared shoulders and tense voices, vague threats and not-so-vague insinuations filling the air between them and flitting in one ear and out the other as Taako’s mind races.

Unease prickles underneath his skin, shooting down his limbs and turning his fingertips and toes numb. Merle is talking to Lucas now but Lucas is staring at Taako through the gap between Merle and Magnus's legs, brows drawn, mouth agape.

There's no way Lucas could have heard what transpired between them. Hell, Taako isn't even sure how much Merle heard, and he's not looking forward to the dwarf’s attempts to talk it out of him later.

And yet Lucas fucking Miller continues to stare at him, confusion and disbelief and something like awe dancing across his face.  
  
_Go on_ , Taako wants to snap, but his lips stay still. _Go on and look long and hard at the idiot who just tried to cheat Death._  
  
Fatigue tugs at the backs of his eyes, stinging and insistent, and his chest feels heavy and hollow all at once.  
  
_If you're lying to me..._  
  
Fuck.  
  
_...your soul is forfeit._  
  
**_Fuck._ **  
  
Magnus and Merle haul Lucas to his feet and Taako snaps back into focus, blinking the haze from his vision as he steps forward. All problems for later, he tells himself. Problems that can wait until tomorrow, because it's three in the morning and Merle now has a tree for an arm and Magnus swallowed a fucking rock and he just wants to go the fuck to _sleep_.

He tosses one last look at the area of the room where Kravitz vanished through his inter-planar rift, and scoffs despite himself.

It really is a damn shame about that face, though.

* * *

 There is very little that surprises Kravitz anymore.

After countless bounties, countless excuses, countless bargains, countless _years_ in service of The Raven Queen as a reaper of wayward souls, he has seen and heard so much that newness is no longer a novelty. Instead it is just another tally in a long list of experience and memory, another thing to tuck away and draw from whenever he may need it.

Even the bounties he stumbled across in the Miller's lab, heavy and unusual as they were, had not surprised him; the convenience of finding all of them in one place was a pleasant boon to his mood, but given time and the numerous moving factors of his line of work, he was bound to come across every conceivable scenario at least once.

And then, as things are wont to do when Kravitz finds events unfolding a little _too_ conveniently, it all went to shit.

From one angle, everything that transpired after he retreated back to the Astral Plane could be considered a failure. The lich presence he felt had escaped, Legion (briefly) got the better of him, and he missed out on a nice chunk of change on account of pardoning three of his marks.

On the other hand, he ended up with quite a bit more than gold for his trouble.

First was the escaped lich: The elf let slip that the lich is, in fact, his sister. Had Kravitz been feeling more magnanimous, he may have pardoned him on that information alone. Familial ties are vital to cases dealing with the undead, especially in the case of liches who lose their physical forms and corrupt their souls beyond recognition. Kravitz isn't sure if Taako realized what he was doing when he offered up such valuable information, but he is long past the point of feeling sorry for other people's mistakes.

Next was the mess of bounties themselves. Legion was strictly under his jurisdiction, but the case with Lucas Miller was so neatly wrapped up without his involvement that he almost couldn't believe his good fortune. Magnus Burnsides very clearly absolved Kravitz of any responsibility in monitoring the necromancer, giving Kravitz free reign to swoop in and take his soul the next time he transgressed upon the natural order of life and death (and he would, they always did, no matter how much they begged and pleaded and promised to change their ways). He is, again, unsure if Magnus Burnsides realized what he was agreeing to. And again, he finds himself past the capacity of caring.

Not that it had _all_ wrapped up smoothly. The resulting mountain of paperwork was almost enough to make him want to slip back in, reap the souls, and just call it even, but he was already on thin ice with Pan due to the stunt he pulled with Merle Highchurch. His Queen had said that his presence at Her court was unnecessary for resolving the matter, but he went anyway, trying his best to remain impassive as Pan thundered in, trailing dirt and leaves and smelling of moss and chlorophyll. The actual meeting didn't go much better, but Pan begrudgingly accepted Kravitz's apology and departed with only a vague threat, something about how he hoped Kravitz didn't miss his green thumb.

Now, though, with most of the mess around Lucas Miller and his lab stamped and filed and _done_ , he could focus on other things. His smaller bounties, of course, but also the more pressing matter on his plate:

Taako's sister, the lich.

He hadn't asked for a name from Taako. Mostly because he didn't need one, but also because Taako's attitude did not lend itself to the assumption that he would cooperate. He considered dropping in on the elf once more, pressing him just a bit for information, but ultimately decided against it. The wizard had a sister, and with that information alone, he should have been able to pull her name from the Book of Souls.

Like everything else about this blasted case, it proves to be way more difficult than that.

According to the Book of Souls— the nigh-infallible record of anyone on the Prime Material Plane who has ever lived or died, penned by his Goddess's own hand— Taako the wizard had no sister.

Kravitz's first assumption is that the elf lied to him. He tamps down on the surge of frustration and irritation that thought brings, instead forcing himself to cycle through all of the possibilities before he pays a rather unpleasant visit.

Taako has died eight times; it is highly unlikely, but still possible, that his information in the Book of Souls is corrupted to the point where his familial ties had been severed. A quick glance at Taako's parentage finds both slots blank, and his second assumption— while less satisfying and less clean-cut than _the elf_ _is a liar—_  starts to look more and more plausible.

A cursory look at the parentage for Magnus Burnsides reveals the same, although he has a marriage link to a deceased soul that had yet to move on from the Sea. Merle Highchurch also has no parents or siblings, but sports a broken link indicating a Pannite marriage to a still-alive dwarven woman, with one child resulting from the union.

Kravitz closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.

Okay.

Perhaps the deaths of Merle Highchurch and Magnus Burnsides occurred before the marriage links, leading to their preservation in the book. It's highly unlikely that a dwarf does _not_ have siblings, he reasons, so Taako's claim of having a sister only carries more validity with each new piece of information Kravitz reveals.

If the elf’s sister _is_ the lich he saw in Lucas Miller's lab, he will need to keep closer tabs on him in case the lich decides to make her presence known. Ideally he would do this with Taako's help, but Kravitz is not naïve enough to think the suggestion will go over well.

"Fuck this," he mutters under his breath, dragging his hand down his face and opening his eyes

And in that instant, three new bounties materialize on perfectly crisp parchment on his desk, newly-dry ink gleaming in the candlelight.

There is very little that surprises Kravitz anymore, but seeing Taako's name along with eleven additional deaths...

Well, everything is bound to happen at least once, right?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know," Taako calls from the kitchen, "I didn't think you were actually serious."
> 
> Kravitz blinks. "I'm sorry?"
> 
> "About the whole 'dying eight times' thing."
> 
> The shriek of a tea kettle pierces the air for barely a second before it’s abruptly silenced. Taako reappears in the doorway, holding two mugs with tea bags bobbing at the surface. He crosses the room, setting one mug on the low table in front of the sofa. "I mean, joke's on Taako, I guess, but can you blame a guy? It sounded pretty farfetched."
> 
> “You...didn’t take me seriously.” Kravitz clears his throat. “Me, the Grim Reaper. I explained—”
> 
> “Here's the thing," Taako says, moving to sit on the couch beside him. There's a spot on his skirt, stiff with dried blood, that slides neatly over an unblemished knee. "What you were saying was fucking insane."

Kravitz was not expecting this to be easy.

When all of the details surrounding the town of Refuge finally made their way across his desk, Kravitz had taken a deep breath and mentally prepared himself for a very long and very frustrating course correction. Long, because that’s how this sort of ethereal untangling tended to go, and frustrating because...well, the three names at the center of this Refuge mess had so far been nothing but.

And not even centuries of experience could prepare him for when he took counsel with his Queen, hoping for a little bit of guidance, and instead received an even more baffling piece of information:

The bounties on the three of them, and what should have been on Refuge as a whole, were suspended pending further investigation.

Kravitz did not have to clarify what _further investigation_ meant.

And as much as he loathed house calls, Her Highness loathed ambiguity in matters of life and death even more.

So that's where Kravitz finds himself now, perched awkwardly on the edge of a comfortably worn charcoal couch, eyes darting around the living area as the unmistakable sounds of mugs clinking and canisters opening flits out of the kitchen, the soft patter of Taako's bare feet on the wood no longer audible over the din.

"You know," Taako calls from the kitchen, "I didn't think you were actually serious."

Kravitz blinks. "I'm sorry?"

"About the whole 'dying eight times' thing."

The shriek of a tea kettle pierces the air for barely a second before it’s abruptly silenced. Taako reappears in the doorway, holding two mugs with tea bags bobbing at the surface. He crosses the room, setting one mug on the low table in front of the sofa. "I mean, joke's on Taako, I guess, but can you blame a guy? It sounded pretty farfetched."

“You...didn’t take me seriously.” Kravitz clears his throat. “Me, the Grim Reaper. I explained—”

“Here's the thing," Taako says, moving to sit on the couch beside him. There's a spot on his skirt, stiff with dried blood, that slides neatly over an unblemished knee. "What you were saying was fucking insane."

"Not sure I follow," Kravitz deadpans, reaching out to take his mug. "It was quite clear on my end. Very cut-and-dry, if you will."

An expression flickers across Taako's face in that second, something open and distant all at once. It's gone almost immediately.

"Well, that makes one of us," he mutters, silencing that line of conversation with the press of the rim to his lips. The steam curls against his cheek as he drinks, and Kravitz only looks away after he feels a tug of shame at the back of his mind, a feeling akin to looking in on an intimate moment. He very deliberately and carefully averts his eyes, lifting his own mug and taking a sip.

The tea is delicious. A little too hot for his preference, but it's herbal and sweet all at once, with licorice and peppermint and something else that lingers on his tongue.

He sees the slump of Taako's shoulders as he lowers the mug to his lap, relief palpable in the way it cuts through the elf's posture, like the snapping of a particularly tense thread.

"Hachi machi." Taako's eyes are half-lidded and unfocused, staring past his hands and into the middle distance of his ripped and dirt-smeared skirt. "What a fuckin' day."

"Well," Kravitz says after a moment, "would you like to talk about it?"

"Not really." Taako's eyes meet his and this time, there's no hiding the exhaustion in his smile. "But hey, we're both just doin' our jobs here, yeah?"

"Sorry," Kravitz offers, not feeling particularly sorry at all. Taako just shrugs, takes another sip of his tea, and begins to talk.

 

* * *

 

There's something familiar and well-worn about the story Taako tells, Kravitz thinks. He talks about their mission and the Relics with words akin to weathered stone, edges blunted by how many times he must have turned them over in his head. It's far from clinical but still somewhat distant; they're the thoughts of an observer, someone who hovers around the edge of a situation instead of interacting.

It doesn't quite fit with what Kravitz saw in the laboratory that day, but he is quickly finding that there are many things about Taako that seem contradictory at first glance.

Right as Taako finishes explaining what happened at the Temple of Istus, Kravitz feels an all-too-familiar press on the back of his mind, a summons he can’t ignore. He sets his long-empty mug down on the coffee table as he stands, Taako following him to his feet with an unreadable expression on his face.

“So is that it, then?” Taako asks, too casual and too calm for how his fingers trace the rim of his mug, the gesture brimming with nervous energy.

"Not quite," Kravitz responds, and it's only centuries of practice that allows him to see the twitch of dissatisfaction at the corner of Taako's mouth. “This information has been helpful, but something very big happened today, and I’ll need some time to sort it out. If you don't mind my asking— would you happen to have a way for me to contact you again?"  
  
"Sure do." Taako reaches into his skirt pocket, setting his mug on the coffee table and offering his Stone to Kravitz. "Gonna be honest, though, I wasn't entirely opposed to the whole ‘catch me alone in my room’ technique, either."  
  
"Well," Kravitz snaps, a little too clumsy in the way he takes the Stone from Taako's hand, "I'm quite busy, I'm afraid, so I much prefer this method."  
  
"Uh huh." And there's that smirk again, a small upturn of his lips that makes something flutter in Kravitz’s stomach. "Just try not to call when I'm meditating, yeah? I get kinda cranky if my beauty sleep’s interrupted."

"I'll— I'll keep that in mind," Kravitz mutters, focusing a little too closely on attuning their Stones, on the steadiness of his hand as he hands it back to Taako. "And Taako, before I go, can I ask you one more thing?"  
  
"Shoot."  
  
"What's your sister's name?"

The question is a mistake, if the sudden change in Taako's posture is any indication; while his face is carefully neutral, the sudden tenseness of his shoulders and the way his fingers twitch around the Stone are too-obvious tells.

He would be a terrible gambler, Kravitz thinks idly.

"Taako," Kravitz says as Taako shoves his Stone into his skirt pocket. "You know I'm not your enemy, right?"

"Right."

“I want to help her.” Kravitz slips his own Stone into his jacket pocket. “I will find her eventually, and I do believe you, Taako— I don’t think her situation is as simple as I thought, but it’s not as ambiguous as _you_ thought, either.”

“You know that goes both ways, yeah?”

Kravitz blinks. “Pardon?”

“What you just said.” Taako has both hands shoved in his skirt pockets now, weight shifting onto one leg, his hip cocked. “About not being our enemy. I’m not _your_ enemy.” He falls silent for a moment, posture tense, eyes unblinking as they stare into his own. “And neither is Lup.”

It’s only years of carefully honed patience that keeps the thrill that shoots down his neck from showing on his face, keeps his tone gentle and neutral as he asks, “Is that your sister’s name? Lup?”  

“Oh, come on.” And fluidity seems to return to Taako all at once, skirt fluttering against his knees as he takes a sudden step back. “I’m pretty sure you’re smarter than that.”

“Simply clarifying,” he says, pursing his lips as the press against his mind grows more insistent. He extends a hand and summons his scythe, wasting no time in slicing a clean rift into the space beside him. “I have to go, but I’ll be in touch.”

“Sure thing.” Taako cocks his head, smirks. “I know you tried to skip a couple steps tonight, but you’re not even gonna offer a good night kiss, huh?”

Heat flares hot and quick underneath Kravitz’s skin as he whips back around, already most of the way through the rift, acutely feeling the burn high in his cheeks even as the quiet chill of the Astral Plane greets him.

“That would be _extremely_ inappropriate,” he sputters, and Taako laughs, high and sharp.

“Yeah, and so’s breaking and entering, my dude. Just call next time.”

“Yes, that was my plan,” Kravitz huffs, trying and failing to keep the exasperation out of his voice. A moment of companionable silence passes before he speaks again. “...Good night, Taako.”

“Adios,” Taako says, and Kravitz tries not to think about how neither of them look away until they are separated by the rift.

 

* * *

 

It only takes two days for Lucretia to approve Taako’s request to go planetside, but it's simultaneously the longest and shortest two days of Taako's life.

He spends almost every waking moment after Refuge tearing through the Bureau’s library, taking in what scant information he can find about The Raven Queen, trying not to let his frustration eat away at him. For such a seemingly important deity, The Raven Queen has few tomes and even fewer followers. Taako manages the basics, at least: Her domain, her laws, her _schtick_ , as it were. He didn’t want to arouse suspicion by asking Kravitz too many questions, and this trip to a fairly sizeable archive near Waterdeep should give him the information that he needs.

It does. And none of it looks good.

The Raven Queen, as it turns out, is something of a hardass on the intelligent undead.

Taako has known since long ago (how, he’s not quite sure) that things like resurrection spells— while technically necromancy— wouldn’t warrant the attention of Her Royal Pain in the Ass. Artificially extending a soul’s life was not a transgression against her or her domain, as that soul would eventually die, and the souls of the dead are all her property.

Liches, beings that retain free will and _also_ gain immortality, are definitely on her shit list.

There’s a quiet panic that hums behind his breastbone the more he researches, a cold tension that settles in his chest with each new wisp of hope dashed. Kravitz did say that he intended to help Lup, but unless Taako’s missing something, that skips right over _guaranteed execution for the crime of lichdom_ and goes straight to _imprisonment in the Stockade with no hope of ever getting out._

All in all, Taako’s pretty sure that Lup is absolutely fucked.

He forces back the shuddering upset that rises in his throat, tries to keep his stomach from twisting with nausea as he slams the book shut.

He wants, _desperately,_  to talk to his sister right now.

The _other_ lich had been the one to meet them outside of Refuge, as if he were waiting for them, and while it had tested the limits of Taako’s patience to even look at him, he can somewhat understand why Lup would make herself scarce.

Especially after he opened his apartment door to find Kravitz waiting for him inside.

It’s tough out there for a lich, he reasons, especially a lich whose brother is being kind-of stalked by a bounty hunter for The Raven Queen.

But if Taako's hunch is correct— and his hunches often are, as years of traveling with a sister with the intuition of a rock had honed that particular skill— he’s _pretty sure_ that Kravitz, slayer of wayward souls, the Grim Reaper himself, is kind of into him.

The usual signs were there. He saw the way Kravitz looked at him, the way he watched him, how he froze when Taako had jokingly inquired about a good night kiss.

It might be mere infatuation, but infatuation is still _something_ , a thread Taako can pick at until he can manage a hole big enough to make the whole thing unravel.

Not that Taako is making some great sacrifice, either. Kravitz is good looking and easy to talk to, and while Taako is certainly no stranger to being fawned over, he's never had fortune tip quite this far in his favor before. He very much intends to take advantage of it.

Especially if taking advantage of it means he can dig himself out of this little hole he’s found himself in.

Taako hadn’t meant to lie to Kravitz in Lucas Miller’s lab; he had panicked, speaking before his brain could catch up, when he usually preferred to hang back and _think_. Kravitz hadn’t given him that opportunity, and now he was up the proverbial shit creek without a paddle because of it.

Sure, hanging back is something that’s backfired on him before. He’s been called stupid, slow, a simple idiot wizard. But rather than correct the misconceptions, he found it easier to wrap himself in them, to draw them close to his breast like a cloak, to allow the strangers forced into his company to underestimate him to almost unrecognizable proportions.

That facade had fallen away fast with Magnus and Merle. Maybe a little too fast, because ‘simple idiot wizard Taako’ wouldn’t have looked the Grim Reaper in the eye and lied to his face about knowing where Lup’s phylactery is.

Taako picks at his nail and frowns. It didn’t have be Lup’s phylactery he offered, but _a_ phylactery. As long as they were able to point Kravitz in the direction of _something,_ he could find a way to get them both off the hook, and what did Taako care if it just so happened to be the phylactery of the lich who put Lup in this situation in the first place?

Fuck, does Lup even _have_ a phylactery?

If she does, Taako has no idea about where it is or what it might be, and it’s ridiculous how much that thought sparks a tiny twinge of pain in his chest. She’s his _sister,_ and she should be able to trust him with anything.

Then again, there's a lot she hasn’t trusted him with these past few years.

But that was then and this is now, and now all Taako knows is this: Lup hasn’t contacted him in weeks, he has no way of knowing where she is, Kravitz is bound and determined to find her one way or another, and he will see Kravitz again.

There is only one of these factors that Taako can control at the moment, and Taako intends to control it to the best of his ability.

He shoves away from the table with an exasperated huff, fumbling for his umbrella as he stands. He waits until he’s well past Waterdeep’s city limits to press his bracer and summon a ride back, watching the sun dip to touch the horizon as he leans against a tree.

He thinks back, with a hint of bitterness, to the lich that met them outside of Refuge.

And then he thinks about the Chalice’s offer.

In hindsight, the offer had been little more than an unsustainable pipe dream; even if Taako could go back in time and undo everything that happened before Glamour Springs, even if he could keep Lup from leaving, the fact remained that inside her mortal body was the scarred soul of a lich.

Lup is a lich no matter what, he tells himself, whether she's alive in a body or not. Lup told him that this transformation occurred well before she died that night, and Lup told him that neither of them had any way of knowing this.

But Kravitz would know.

Kravitz would know, and when her time came, Kravitz would hunt her down.

Taako would pass on peacefully, while Lup’s soul would be punished for a crime she doesn’t remember committing.

If he went back to that night, if he chose to forget his sister’s lichdom and forget Kravitz altogether, he would lose his chance to help her and lose any hope of being with her.

And he will die a thousand times over before he will choose separation from Lup.

 

* * *

 

Taako doesn’t make a habit of arriving early, but he never figured the Grim Reaper to be one for tardiness.

He glances around the Chug N’ Squeeze as he waits and vaguely wonders if Kravitz will even show up, if all of his planning and reading was ultimately for nothing.

He then wonders if Kravitz has changed his mind about the whole ‘talk it out’ thing, wonders if he’ll simply find himself on the other end of a scythe blade the second he returns to his room.

But Kravitz _does_ show up, and when he drops that stupid accent and Taako pitches his voice low and Kravitz bites back a very obvious snort of laughter...well, it's been awhile since he's been able to make someone smile like that, and it's nice.

Nice enough to make Taako relax for a bit.

 

* * *

 

“I did do some research into things after I left,” Kravitz says as he sits back in the booth, waiting for their vases to come out of the kiln. “And...well, there’s a specific reason I told you that her situation may not be as simple as I thought.”

Taako takes a sip of wine, glancing at Kravitz out of the corner of his eye. “Shoot.”

"Well, she's not in my Book." Kravitz sets his wine glass down. "And not being in the Book could mean any number of things. It could mean she's—"

"Wait." Taako's back straightens, mind racing a mile a minute. "Wouldn’t that mean that you have no record of her being _alive?"_

Kravitz pauses, his eyes meeting Taako's for just a moment before he nods.

"That's exactly what it means. I don't have any record of her ever—"

“Is my name in there?”

It’s a rhetorical question, and frankly a bit insulting; Taako knows his name is in there, as Kravitz had read it out to him during their first meeting.

“Yes, it is.”

"Then that's kind of bullshit, huh?" Taako says, glad that the words don't froth and churn at the edges like whatever's clawing at the back of his throat. "She didn't just materialize out of nothing. We had parents. We were _born."_

"I'm only telling you what I know," Kravitz says, and Taako feels an impatient itch in his fingers. "The gods and their domains aren't infallible, Taako. There have been mistakes in the past, and there will continue to be mistakes. Part of my job is sorting stuff like that out."

"Part of it?"

Kravitz nods. "Not that I'm here to talk about—" he pauses, lips forming the word 'work' before he hastily backtracks, "—other aspects of— I'm— I mean, we're here to discuss Refuge. And, uh, and your sister, of course, I've not forgotten—"

It's kind of cute, Taako thinks idly, seeing him get flustered like this.

"So Lup's not in your big ol' archives," he says, more to halt that train of thought than anything. "What does that mean for me?"

"It doesn't really mean anything for you." Kravitz sounds oddly relieved to change the subject. "Lup is Lup, and you are you. Your first transgression is already worked out, and this is more of a follow-up than anything. You won't have to worry about Refuge after I leave tonight."

If he were in a better mood, it would have been a source of endless amusement that Kravitz could look him in the eye and call nineteen death (nineteen affronts to his goddess’s law, nineteen failures to check in to the Astral Plane) a mere transgression.

"Cool," Taako says instead, because he is decidedly not in a good mood anymore. "But I'm a little more concerned with Lup than I am worried about Refuge, bubeleh." He tilts his head, fixing Kravitz with an even gaze. "And I think you know that."

Up until this moment, Taako had simply assumed with no small amount of amusement that the Grim Reaper, the gambling, betting, lets-play-a-game-for-your-soul spectre of Death, had tells so obvious you could see them from the actual moon.

It was a fair assumption, with the way Kravitz visibly tensed when Taako's knee brushed against his as they sat, with the way he had laughed a little too loud at a lewd innuendo about certain vase shapes.

Now, seeing the very deliberate and careful way that Kravitz closes his expression off, Taako realizes he assumed wrong.

"I'm not sure that's something I should discuss any further."

"And why not?” Taako tilts his chin up, narrows his eyes. “You'll let me advocate for an entire town, but not for my twin sister?"

"Taako..." Kravitz sets his wine glass down, a bit of that guarded expression falling away as his eyes search Taako's face. Taako's not sure if he finds what he's looking for, but after a moment, he sits back with his brows drawn.

"This is a very delicate situation, more so than Refuge. Liches are..." Kravitz hesitates, as if searching for the correct words. "They're an abomination against the natural order of life and death. And me, being who I am...I'm bound by my Goddess, my conscious, my whole reason for _being_ to find her.”

"I don't buy it," Taako says, his tone cold. "I don't buy for _one second_ that you can pardon _years_ worth of infractions against your natural order, but you can't allow Lup to plead her case."

"The records might work in her favor, but that's a molehill against a mountain. She committed a crime, Taako— she _did,_ " he says a bit forcefully, as Taako opens his mouth to interrupt. "I know what you've told me, but no matter how it happened, lichdom is a crime. I could bring her in front of my Queen, and I could present evidence and testimonial, and she might end up executed regardless."

Taako feels a sharp jolt shoot down his back, feels his gut curl in on itself, and he sees Kravitz's eyes go wide.

"I shouldn't have—” Kravitz brings both hands up, fumbling. “That was—"

"There has to be another way to do this," Taako interrupts, his voice tight. "I had options. _Refuge_ had options. Lup has to have options, too."

Kravitz sighs and lowers his hands. "I'm sorry."

 _Fuck you,_  Taako thinks, quick and sharp around the edges.

"It would be fair for Lup to also have an option, but life and death aren't inherently fair." Kravitz’s voice is quiet, his gaze almost gentle. "I think it's out of your hands."

"Yeah, maybe." And it's a struggle to wrest his self-control back, a struggle to swallow the bile down. But he does, and he does it all while shooting Kravitz a winning smile, setting his wine glass on the table.

"You don't know this about me yet, since we haven’t talked much—" and Taako reaches out, his hand covering Kravitz's where it lays flat on his thigh (and resisting the urge to jerk away because _holy shit,_ that hand is _cold_ ),  "—but ol’ Taako here hates being told no."

Kravitz is staring at him now, wide-eyed and wordless, and he looks so painfully out of his element that Taako would find it almost charming in any other situation.

"So." Taako's voice lowers, going soft and quiet. "Just hear me out, yeah?"

"Taako, I—" Kravitz falters, pauses, flicks his eyes down to where Taako's hand is covering his, gaze lingering for just a second too long. "...Okay," he finally says. "Sure, I'll hear you out."

"Thanks," Taako says, surprised to find that he means it. He pulls his hand back, reaching out to pick up his glass.

"So," Taako murmurs, eyes focused on his wine as he swirls it around. "If you spare Lup's soul and she agrees to help hunt down others to send for your Queen's judgment...how many proverbial boxes would that tick for you?"

He sees Kravitz toss him a wary look out of the corner of his eye. "You've been doing your reading."

A small, quiet sort of pride mingles with the unease curling his stomach.

"I know what I'm about, Bones, and I meant it when I said that Lup has to have options." He takes a long, slow sip from his glass. It’s cheap, and it doesn’t go down much easier than bile. "Either we find those options, or I'm gonna make them."

“It’s not quite that simple. Lup has to answer for what she did.”

“And she _will_ ,” Taako presses, even as a chill stirs the hair at the back of his neck.

 _This isn’t going to work,_ he thinks, pulse trembling unsteady in his veins. _No. This has to work. Find something. Find_ **_something._ **

“I understand where you’re coming from, Taako,” Kravitz is saying, voice is tinged with something that’s not quite resignation. “But lichdom is...it’s _severe_. You don’t understand—”

“—The Raven Queen? I don’t understand the Goddess of the Domain of Graves?” Taako’s fingers tighten minutely around the stem of his wine glass. “You think I don’t understand her absolute disdain for lichdom, how she can’t abide anything that trespasses against the natural order of life and death? You think I don’t know her desire for balance, for _symmetry_?”

Taako’s voice lowers.

“You think I don’t know what she’s going to ask in exchange?”

If he ends up having a future in which he gets to tell this story, Taako thinks, he is definitely prefacing it with: _Ever made Death speechless? ‘Cause I sure have._

Kravitz is staring at him with the same wide-eyed wordless expression as before, the tilt of his brow the only indication of the unease dancing behind his eyes.

“Taako.” And it’s so odd, seeing a man speak without having to draw breath. “What are you asking of me?”

“I’m not asking anything, I’m offering.”

 _For Lup,_ he tells himself, heart pounding, his hands betraying none of the sickening dread thudding through his veins. _This is for Lup._

_And this is all I have left, so you’d better fucking take it._

“I’m offering you my soul in exchange for Lup’s.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kravitz is very good at knowing when people are lying. Call it intuition, call it centuries upon centuries of bargaining and negotiation— whatever it is, he knows it like the back of his hand. He knows Taako is desperate, and he can tell that he is nervous. 
> 
> But he knows that Taako is not a liar.
> 
> How unfair, then, this situation his sister has put him in.
> 
> But ultimately irrelevant; life and death are not known for their fairness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to @weatheredlaw, @MalevolentMango and @Shinykipp for the beta.
> 
> And of course, thank you to @ltdominic, who is the Taako master and an eternal joy.

A wave of ozone and cold flutters Taako's bangs as the rift closes behind Kravitz, leaving him standing alone on the moon base quad.

His Umbrastaff hangs on one arm and his vase hangs secure in a sturdy paper bag off of the other. He stares, unblinking, at the empty space where Kravitz once stood. His mind still swirls with this pervasive and unrecognizable _feeling_ , an indescribable something he saw reflected back at him in Kravitz's concerned red eyes.

Something that feels like static and slime at the edges.

He waits for it to hit him, _all_ of it, the gravity and the dread and the heaviness lurking just out of reach—

He waits for one long moment, and then another.

And when he gets sick of waiting, he walks.

Everything after leaving the quad is automatic; practiced actions carry him towards the elevators, absently press the correct buttons, and retrieve the key to the door to their quarters.

The next thing he is aware of is Magnus’s voice, cutting a greeting through the sensation of cotton in his ears, and his heart jumps to life in his chest.

He watches Magnus’s lips form words that don't register and hears himself respond with equal parts nonsense and practiced snark, circling around Magnus like wary pray until his fingers hit the doorknob to his room.

Magnus keeps talking, and Taako’s not sure why. He talks and he talks and now he’s becoming incoherent, senseless noise that gets caught in the hum of Taako’s exhaustion. Taako is so close to nothingness, to slipping into meditation and quiet, and the cold metal underneath his fingertips sings a relief that rings in his ears.

Magnus speaks again, a question obvious in his voice as well as on his face.

Taako opens his mouth to respond, and nothing comes out.  

He tries again.

“Cool story, my dude. Night." He eventually turns away, slipping through a door he doesn’t remember opening and closing it on an expression he can’t read.

The paper bag and his Umbrastaff clatter to the floor as his head thunks back against solid wood, and for one wonderful, blissful second, all he can hear is silence.

And then it hits him.

Taako barely manages to scramble for a wastepaper basket before the entire contents of the evening’s meal are revisited, shoulders heaving with the force of it all. He slides down to his knees between retches, choking for air. His heartbeat is erratic and rough, and the tips of his hair tremble in front of his eyes.

Thankfully, it doesn’t last long.

He blinks away tears and spits bile onto bleeding parchment, lightheaded and shaky as he pushes himself to his feet. The window to his room only opens a crack, enough to send a blast of cold air whipping across his face that he sucks in with a gasp. He leans his head against the windowpane with a thunk, taking in the faint lights on the horizon as he catches his breath.

 _Unusual_ , he thinks. Just the one word— he’s too mentally tapped out for anything else. He’s not prone to bouts of nausea, and actually finding himself physically ill is even rarer.

In fact, the last time he got sick was when—

Another violent, rolling wave seizes him, and the force of it makes static ring bright and sharp in his ears.

Taako waits until the ground levels itself under his feet before heading to the bathroom, disgustingly grateful for the empty common room and not quite caring that it’s far too early for Magnus to turn in. He closes the door and turns the shower taps. He strips and tries, desperately, to think of anything but shitty wine and waxy cheese and a burning cold touch against his skin.

He's about to step in the shower when he chances a glance at the mirror. His eyes are red-rimmed and his hair disheveled, black flakes of mascara mingling with barely-there freckles against the sickened flush of his cheeks.

As much as he wants to, he doesn't slam the shower door behind him.

Taako's never been one to deny himself elaborate and fantastic rituals of self-care, and languid, hot showers have long been the core of his carefully curated routine. He's not sure if it's by design or good luck that the hot water down here lasts as long as it does, but he certainly takes his time shampooing his hair and scrubbing his skin, scraping his fingernails against his scalp and letting the water run in fat rivulets down the back of his ears and neck.

His thoughts are slowly moving by the time he finger-combs a healthy glob of conditioner through his hair, leaning back against the steam-warmed tile wall as he idly twirls the ends.

If nothing else, he feels like he's beginning to get a better idea of this whole mess he's found himself in. While Kravitz claims his intentions are clear-cut, his motive still feels _off;_ Kravitz is, for all intents and purposes, working against him. Kravitz is an enemy.

Which makes his honesty all the more confusing.

Taako closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the tile, braiding heavy strands into a slick mess before undoing it and starting the process all over again. His thoughts are pinballing, ricocheting between defiance and resignation, disbelief and something like— _anger._

Taako should have known better than to think Kravitz would help him.

Taako should know by now that the only one who can help him is _himself._

He takes a deep, heaving breath, closes his eyes, and shoves his head under the stream.

 

* * *

 

“Drank a little too much last night, huh?” Magnus says the next morning, an infuriating smile on his face as he strolls into the kitchen. Taako barely looks up from examining the rim of his favorite mug. There’s a chip in it, just sharp enough to catch an unsuspecting lower lip, and that somehow irritates him far more than Magnus's smugness.

“If I say I have a headache, will you at least shut up?” Taako snaps, setting the mug down and opening the cabinet. He really should go for the licorice and peppermint, something to soothe his raw and aching throat, but the compulsion to grab almost anything else is too strong to resist.

“Shut up? _Hell_ no,” Magnus says, striding past Taako and opening the door to the pantry, sticking his head in and rummaging around. “Not after what I heard last night.”

There’s enough of _something_ in Magnus’s voice to make unease bloom as Taako fills the tea kettle with water, brow furrowing as he looks over his shoulder. “Ooh, look at mister mysterious cryptic bullshit over here. Was the hour-long shower not enough of a hint that I might have needed a little _Taako time_ , if you get my drift?”

“And you’re one to talk,” Taako adds. “You somehow turn jerkin’ it into a fucking multi-sensory surround-sound experience.”

“Fuck off,” Magnus snaps, and there’s a tinge of pink to his cheeks as he lifts his head from behind the pantry door, holding a couple slices of sourdough bread and a jar of peanut butter. “First off, that’s really gross. Second off, you really thought my bee-eff-eff wouldn’t fill me in?” Magnus crosses the kitchen and hooks his foot around the leg of one of the chairs, pulling it out with an annoying, drawn out scrape. He sits down, his infuriating smirk growing exponentially larger. “So, who’s the mystery boyfriend?”

Taako freezes.

_Fuck._

“None of your fucking business,” he says, before he can stop himself. Magnus laughs.

“Hey, that’s cool with me. I’m just happy you—”

“Great,” Taako says, whipping his head back around. “And just so we’re clear, this is literally the last conceivable thing in this entire _world_ that I want to talk about right now, least of all with you, _capisce_?”

“Taako.” Magnus’s voice is no less quiet, but there’s a softness that wasn’t there before, a caution that draws Taako’s shoulders up. “I didn’t mean to, y’know...I mean, I really am glad you—”

“No, it’s...fuck, Magnus. It’s fine.” Taako deliberately does not look back, hyper-focused on the tea scoop in his hand. “It’s whatever. It’s not serious.”

Magnus falls silent, and of all moments for him to choose quiet companionship, Taako is pretty sure he despises this one the most. He watches the kettle with an almost burning intensity, biting his lip against the flutter of anxiety in his chest.

“What did she say about him?”

“She...said he looked like your type,” Magnus says haltingly, sounding surprised by this abrupt shift in attitude. He also sounds like he has a mouthful of peanut butter and sourdough bread, which, talk about _fucking gross._ “She said he was all 'tall, dark, and handsome'. Nicely dressed.”

The water is boiling. Taako flicks the spout lid with his thumb before it can whistle.

“Also said he, uh, he seemed nice.”

“He is,” Taako echoes as he pours. “Nice guy.”

“Cool.”

Taako drops the tea bag into his mug and watches it expand as the petals bleed magenta into the water and perfume into the steam. He closes his eyes and breathes in.

“So don’t worry about it, yeah?”

“Consider it done.” Taako hears another loud scrape of wood against tile as Magnus pushes away from the table, clearly not intending to put the _fucking_ peanut butter back as he leaves the kitchen. “Besides, why would I worry?”

“Exactly,” Taako mutters as Magnus’s footsteps fade into the living area. He presses his thumb to the chip in the rim. There’s a dull flash of light underneath his skin, and the smell of burning leaves mingles with the steam as his thumb swipes across smooth porcelain. “‘Cause I can fuckin’ take care of myself."

 

* * *

 

The café that Taako chose for their second meeting is, admittedly, very beautiful.

It's bright, illuminated by sunlight that streams through the large floor to ceiling windows on one wall. The furniture is classic, timeless, and Elven. Intricate carvings dance through the deep mahogany wood of the walls, catching the sun's rays in its bevels and giving the appearance of an ethereal glow.

A beautiful choice, but an odd one for the task at hand, to be sure.

"Taako,” Kravitz says quietly. He at least had the foresight to remove his mantle and scythe before entering, leaving him in a dark suit that stands out conspicuously amongst the richly colored decor. “Are you sure a teahouse is an appropriate place for this...discussion?"

"Sure, why not?" Taako asks, barely glancing at the menu on their table before pushing it to the edge. “Should I have planned a nice graveside picnic instead? Sorry it’s not some, like, fuckin’ obsidian-and-black-candelabra Gothic Renaissance bullshit, Lord Strahd, but I hope you’ll find it in your kind undead heart to forgive me.”

“It’s fine,” Kravitz says quickly. “Just...not quite what I was expecting.”

“Well,” Taako says, drumming his fingertips on the table, “This isn’t quite how I was expecting things to go either, so I might as well get some decent food out of it. You don’t mind, right? I’ll bet your venerable bird mom gives you a fuckin’ _choice_ per diem.”

“No, of course not, why would I—” Kravitz falters, his expression turning incredulous. “Wait, are you— are you expecting me to pay for lunch?”

"Like hell I'm paying." Taako sits back in the chair, crossing his legs. "You don't have gold?"

Kravitz freezes, his eyes going wide.

"Uh, I...I do, but—"

"You know, some would consider quiche and tea a _very_ fair exchange for someone’s immortal soul. Especially from _this_ place."

"Sure," Kravitz says, brushing that aside to get to the true source of his incredulity. "Taako, what would you have done if I didn't have any gold?"

" _Seriously_ reconsidered my first impression of you as a gentleman," Taako says airily, waving a hand. “Would you mind if we get this whole contract thing outta the way? Kinda hard to work up an appetite with this hangin’ over my head, if you get my sweet guillotine reference.”

“Wouldn’t that be neck?” Kravitz deadpans, and almost instantly goes rigid. “Oh— I, uh, I mean, I’m not making light of this, Taako. I’m sorry if that was insensitive.”

“Yeah, Bones. If you’re not careful I’ll report you to HR and you’ll have to go for Reaper Sensitivity Training.”

“Right. Sorry about that,” he mutters, clearing his throat. “Anyway, let me just say that I’m...surprised that my patron is allowing me to agree to your terms.”

"Oh yeah? Not like you have much of a choice, though.” Taako’s head tilts, his gaze inquisitive. “You don't agree to this, you don't get the phylactery.”

Kravitz feels his posture stiffen. "I have ways that I could find it on my own."  
  
Taako snorts. "You pardoned us, remember? So the way I see it, you either incentivize me to cooperate now, or you're gonna be waitin' a long time, my guy."  
  
Kravitz crosses his arms. "You're holding the information for ransom, then?"

"Oh yeah, natch, here’s big bad Taako, feared criminal mastermind, holding vital information ransom for glorified egg custard and hot leaf juice. Catch me on the fuckin’ Neverwinter black market, I’ll hook you up.” Taako rolls his eyes. “Give me a break. I'm offering you a deal that benefits both of us."

It’s difficult to keep a straight face against the image of an illicit black market quiche dealer, but Kravitz manages with a soft cough hidden behind his hand. If he got distracted by every smooth-talking death dodger, he wouldn’t be very good at his job, and Kravitz prides himself on being _very_ good at his job.

He clears his throat.

"You say that, but— you realize that by doing this, you’re agreeing to bear the brunt of a punishment for a crime that isn’t yours.” Kravitz frowns. "You know there's no coming back from this, right?"

“I’m still sitting here, aren’t I?”

Kravitz studies him for a minute. Taako's eyes are sharp, but not angry. The wavering desperation that had gripped at his hands and his voice at the end of their previous meeting is conspicuously absent, and in its place is a steady resolve.

“...You’re right. I suppose you are.” He flicks his wrist before the elf has a chance to respond.

A small piece of rolled-up parchment appears in front of Taako, bound in red ribbon and sealed in black wax.

“That’s your contract,” he says, with as little emotion as he can manage. “You have to open it. Read it over carefully; everything we discussed last week should be inside.”

Taako breaks the wax seal and unfurls it with none of the careful reverence Kravitz would expect while handling a document like this, one that basically outlines the terms and conditions of his soul’s imprisonment. At least Taako’s eyes appear to be scanning the page carefully, and they sit in a silence that stretches on as Taako reads once, twice, three times, before his eyes settle at the bottom of the page.

His brows knit together.

"Where's Lup's signature supposed to go?"

“Nowhere. This is a contract between the two of us. If we were to bring Lup's consent into this, there's a chance that she would refuse to sign and render our deal null.” Kravitz sits back and folds his hands on the table. “Unless that’s your intention?”

“It's not,” Taako says, his voice firm. “No, it's not my intention.”

Kravitz is very good at knowing when people are lying. Call it intuition, call it centuries upon centuries of bargaining and negotiation— whatever it is, he knows it like the back of his hand. He knows Taako is desperate, and he can tell that he is nervous.

But he knows that Taako is not a liar.

"My apologies. Let's get right down to it, then. Taako." Kravitz leans forward, fingers interlocking. "Do you understand the terms of the contract that I've laid before you?"

The corners of Taako’s lips twitch up.

"Sure do."

There is no hesitation in his reply. It makes Kravitz want to wince.

"Do you understand that the terms of this contract are contingent upon the apprehension of the accused, Lup?"

The smirk fades, and Taako attempts to school his expression into something a bit more careful, more neutral.

"Yep."

"And you understand that the terms of your contract must be carried out in full and as specified, regardless of whether or not she agrees to the terms I've prepared for her?"

Taako's breath stops. For a split second, he sits so perfectly still and unmoving that Kravitz could swear that time stops, as well.

The illusion shatters as Taako closes his eyes and exhales slowly through his nose.

"...Yeah, I do."

And now, it's Kravitz who needs to remind himself to draw breath.

If life and death are inherently unfair, it’s lucky that Kravitz can act in fairness on its behalf.

"Your sister is lying to you, Taako."

Taako’s eyes open. He is silent for a moment, and Kravitz waits.

“Come on, my man.” Taako grins, but it’s crooked and awkward. Forced. “You think that’s news to me? That, of all things?”

It takes a moment to sink in, but once it does, Kravitz's chest clenches.

"You know." The words come out tinged with incredulity, despite Kravitz’s best effort.

"I may be a simple idiot wizard, but I know what liches are about, my guy.” He sits back in his chair, shoulders rising and falling in a casual shrug. “I know her story doesn't check out, and I know she's lying to me. Don’t gotta be fuckin’ Maxwell Smart to figure that one out. Give me a bit of credit where it’s due, handsome."

"You _know_ ," Kravitz repeats, too stunned to acknowledge the compliment. "You know, so _why_? Why are you going through with this?"

“Because if I don’t, we’ll be separated in death.” Taako’s expression is guarded now, slowly closing off into something foreign and dissonant. “That’s what _you_ told me, hombre, straight from the Grim Reaper’s mouth.”

“And it’s true,” Kravitz insists. “But she made her choice, and that punishment is not your burden to bear.”

“Oh, so making sure she doesn’t get _executed_ is a burden?” Taako shifts forward, placing his hands flat on the table. “Like I should look the other way as you hunt her down? Like anything could convince me that I shouldn’t do this for her after everything she did for—”

Taako cuts himself off, drawing in a sharp breath, as if his own words have taken him by surprise. His fingertips are pressing into the polished wood of the table, his knuckles white. He slowly relaxes them, levels an even stare at Kravitz.

“You know what? It doesn't matter.” Taako sits back, one careless hand sweeping above the tabletop. “Because this is all you need, right?”

The contract and the signature. It _is_ all Kravitz needs, but at the moment, it’s not what Kravitz wants.

Kravitz wants so badly to say _please, of all things, don’t do this._

Kravitz wants to warn him away. To tell him that any length of time in the Eternal Stockade is not worth whatever pain he imagines separation from his sister to be. He wants to know what spell he can affect, what enchantment would sharpen his words enough to penetrate this armor of resolve around Taako, to let him know that this isn’t where his soul _belongs._

He wants to remind Taako that his afterlife is _his,_ beholden to nothing and no one, not even to the clemency Kravitz saw fit to grant him and his two companions.

He wants Taako to run.

Instead, he reaches a hand out across the table and materializes a raven-feather quill between his fingertips.

“Very well, then.”

There's a brief flicker of emotion across Taako's face, something intense and deep and painful.

It's gone by the time he reaches out and takes the quill.

"Right on the dotted line, huh?" He quips, lips once again twisting up into a rough smile.

"It's a solid line, actually," Kravitz murmurs, and before he can stop himself, "Taako, are you absolutely—"

The nib presses to the parchment before he can say any more.

His signature is swooping and careless and neat, quill tilting with a penmanship far beyond his years. Kravitz pretends not to notice the heavy press on the last downward stroke, ink bleeding out and instantly drying into the parchment.

“There you go,” Taako says, placing the quill down as if he’s just signed a banknote. “Hold onto that. It’s still worth a bit in some parts of— _oh_.”

The parchment starts to curl, fading to fine black wisps from the corners inward until nothing remains.

"It's a deal, then," Kravitz says. He feels a small twinge in his chest. "Taako, upon completion of your service to the Bureau of Balance, your soul will be forfeit. You agree to serve the full and complete sentence for attempted necromancy within the walls of the Eternal Stockade, concurrent with Lup's service to the Raven Queen as one of her retinue."

The quill is still by Taako's hand, lying flat on the table. Kravitz picks it up, vanishing it in a similar manner to the parchment.  "At the end of your sentence, you shall be permitted to join your sister in the Sea of Souls. You will face no further reprimand and no further punishment will be asked of you."

Kravitz sits back. The usual unbroken lines of his posture suddenly feel too heavy and cumbersome for him to maintain, and he lets his shoulders relax as he looks at Taako. The elf's gaze is fixated at the spot on the table where his contract once was, deep in thought.

Kravitz hesitates only for a second before asking: "...Do you have any questions?"

“Yeah.” Taako draws in a breath, his shoulders rising slightly with the effort. “Two, actually.”

His eyes snap up to meet Kravitz’s gaze, wide and sharp.

"I’m fucking hungry, so can we order already? Oh, and what kinda quiche do you want?"

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come find me on Twitter and Tumblr @silkrumi!


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